First time
by fybakerstreet
Summary: When Sherlock jumps off the roof of the hospital it's not the first time John watches one of his friends die. When Sherlock is standing in the living room of 221B Baker Street 3 years later however, it is the first time one of them comes back to life.
1. Chapter 1

When Sherlock jumps off the roof of St. Barts hospital it's not the first time John watches one of his friends die. Three years later when Sherlock is standing in the living room of 221B Baker Street however, it is the first time he's seen one of them come back from the dead. It's also the first time he faints and when he wakes up, it's the first time he hits Sherlock aiming for his nose and teeth.

John only dealt Sherlock one blow. Mainly because Sherlock did nothing to dodge or counterattack. However, it was enough to send Sherlock stumbling to the floor, covering his bleeding nose. Normally John would have felt bad, but this time it was a relief. That he could hit him meant that Sherlock was real. Alive. A tosser, but alive. Afterwards John gets his medical kit and sees to Sherlock's nose. Sherlock sits completely still during the whole thing, his eyes scanning John. Evidence on how the past three years had been for John could be read clearly on his face. He had been eating little and sleeping even less. Barely been outside or talked to anyone. Sherlock didn't comment on it though, knowing perfectly well he didn't look much better himself and that John didn't need to hear this. Not now. Not from Sherlock.

Later when Sherlock's nose doesn't look like a bloody mess, they are both seated in their chairs. It was strange to see Sherlock filling the spot that had been left empty for such a long time. At John's request Sherlock starts explaining himself. Some of the time John listens eagerly, hanging on to every word Sherlock uttered, some of the time he spaces out, the information too much and the situation too big to handle. Somewhere during the explanation John falls asleep and Sherlock carries him to bed.

Over the next couple of days Sherlock slid back into his old routine. Not that it was very difficult; the flat looked like he'd never left. Over the years John still made two cups of tea, still left Sherlock's chair empty for him and made sure the skull and violin didn't gather dust. Sherlock didn't talk about what had happened the last three years and John didn't ask. Most of the time John simply sat in his chair looking at Sherlock, as if he was afraid that Sherlock would disappear if he looked away. John wonders if Mrs. Hudson would see Sherlock as well if she came to visit. She does and John sighs in relief.

The first time Sherlock enters John's bedroom he doesn't say anything, just crawls into bed, taking a seat on John's stomach. He leans down, placing a soft, trying kiss on John's lips. Their first kiss. John doesn't answer the kiss, he just blinks confused up at Sherlock, not really sure whether he is dreaming or not.

"Sherlock?"

John asks tryingly. Sherlock doesn't answer, he simply leans down to place another kiss on John's lips. This time, John answers the kiss, tryingly at first then more confident. He hums deep in his throat opening his mouth so Sherlock's tongue can slip inside. Their first proper kiss. The kiss sends small sparks down John's back and he shifts underneath Sherlock, his hands wandering up Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock answers by running his hands slowly though John's hair, tugging gently at it as he deepens the kiss.

The kisses confuse John. He never thought Sherlock was interested in any sort of intimate relations of any kind. Not that John wanted to object to what was happening, he had always sort of fancied Sherlock, but never expected his feelings to be returned. Fancied is a strong word. He had always sort of wanted this to happen, but it had never played out. So he had dated others, mostly women, brought them over for Christmas. Sherlock had never seemed to care. Then again, John had no way of knowing what went on inside Sherlock's head. John hums approvingly into the kiss, twitching as Sherlock's hand lands on his crotch, his fingers playing lightly over the growing bulge in John's boxers. Only then does John realise that Sherlock already is completely naked.

Sherlock shifts on top of John, moving down to sit between John's legs. Wordlessly he pulls John's boxers down, shooting John a glance. John nods, biting his lip as he kicks his boxers to the floor. With a shuddering sigh, John leans his head back on the pillow as Sherlock leans down, his breath ghosting over John's length. John whimpers softly, his hips bucking slightly in search for some friction. John thinks he can see Sherlock smirking at him, but he can't be sure. The room is dark and quite frankly his attention was currently elsewhere. Sherlock's lips press softly against the head of his length and John whimpers again, hungry for more. So much more.

John can hear the sound of a bottle being uncapped followed by Sherlock's hand on his length, covered with lube. 'Sherlock must have brought it.' John thinks for himself, he certainly did not have any lying around. Then again, knowing Sherlock, he might have bought it and hid it in John's room especially for this purpose. Either way it didn't matter now. Sherlock was kneeling between John's legs, visibly preparing himself. John bites his lip, a small moan sounding from the back of his throat. The sight makes him shiver with anticipation and he grips the sheet, twisting it in his hands. Sherlock takes John's length in his hand before he settles himself above it, the head of John's length barely touching Sherlock's entrance. John huffs, unable to think of anything to say. Sherlock doesn't seem to mind though, lowering himself onto John's length slowly, choked moans forcing their way past his lips despite his efforts to remain quiet.

John leans his head back on the pillow, moaning softly as his hands claw at the sheets. Sherlock feels tight and warm around him and he strains himself not to buck his hips. As he reaches the base of John's length, Sherlock stops, his breath ragged and heavy. He looks down at John through half closed eyes, still not saying a word. John looks back, his hands moving up to Sherlock's hips, caressing them slowly as he waits for them to adjust to each other.

A few minutes passes before Sherlock decides he was bored of waiting, starting to move his hips carefully. John moans softly, his hands covering every inch of Sherlock's skin within his reach as the pace slowly builds up between them. John's moans grow louder as he feels himself being drawn closer and closer to the edge with every move of Sherlock's hips. Sherlock's expression hadn't changed however, nor had he made much sound. John huffs, knowing he wouldn't be satisfied with this unless Sherlock too reaches his climax. Meeting Sherlock's gaze, John closes a hand around Sherlock's length, stroking it slowly. Sherlock twitches, a faint moan forcing its way up his throat. He looks down at John with a curious expression, but doesn't stop him. Instead he continues to move his hips, though more slowly this time, rolling them slowly and sensually. John moans, squirming underneath Sherlock as his climax draws closer. He strokes Sherlock's length in time with the movements of Sherlock's hips, sometimes earning small moans or gasps from Sherlock.

John had no idea whether Sherlock was close or not, but he wasn't able to ignore the rush of sensations running through him, demanding his attention, any longer. Giving in, he moans loudly, his hips jerking as Sherlock rides him through his orgasm. John continues to stroke Sherlock's length eagerly, gaining louder and louder moans from Sherlock until his hand is covered in warm, thick liquid. Sherlock stills on top of him, gasping for air, supporting his hands on John's chest. John's hands fall to his side and he smiles hazily up at Sherlock.

John doesn't quite know why, but for some reason he had expected Sherlock to stay and spend the rest of the night with him. Sherlock however seemed to have other plans. He crawled off John and used John's discarded t-shirt to clean up after himself before heading for the door.

"Sherlock? Aren't you going to stay?"

Sherlock looks like he's smiling, but again, John can't be sure.

"Good night, John."


	2. Chapter 2

The first time John tells Sherlock he loves him he just blurts it out in the middle on a conversation. The silence that follows is crushing and John wishes he could disappear in a puff of smoke. Sherlock frowns lightly as if John had suddenly become this thing he didn't understand. John clears his throat and changes the subject. Several weeks pass without any of them mentioning it again, though they both shoot each other the occasional glance.

The first time Sherlock tells John that he loves him it's followed by a "I think."John nods as if it made sense for Sherlock to say something like that. Neither John nor Sherlock knows what to say after that so John simply slips his hand into Sherlock's, squeezing it lightly as they walk back to the flat. This time, John knew for sure that Sherlock was smiling. A small, quirky smile.

The first time they spend the night in the same bed Sherlock lies snuggled up against John, resting his head on John's stomach. John smiles down at him, running his hand lazily through Sherlock's hair, playing with his curls. "I think I love you too." John mumbles, his eyes running over Sherlock's naked body. Sherlock nods, drawing lazily patterns on John's stomach with his finger. "You're soft," he comments.

"Is that good?"  
>Sherlock nods, sighing contently as he kisses John's stomach.<p>

"Good," John smiles, pulling the duvet over them both. "You're beautiful," John mumbles tiredly. Sherlock smiles, shifting somewhat awkwardly. Compliments about something other than his intelligence was still fairly new to him. John made sure to give him at least one every day though. Sherlock does his best to return the compliments, but usually ends up with lines John doesn't quite get the romance behind like; "You stimulate my basal ganglia," or "I brain you." The meaning is not lost to John though and he appreciates the effort.

The first time John's parents find out John is in a relationship they turn up at 221B unexpectedly one evening, greeting John with a big smile each as he opens the door. John is hesitant about inviting them in, but finds himself with little choice as the weather is horrible and they've just gotten off the train. He shows them into the living room and offers to make a cup of tea, bracing himself against the questions he knew was coming. His mother wouldn't mind much. His father on the other hand. Picking up the tray John walks back into the living room, freezing and cursing internally as he notices Sherlock.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair wearing only his sheet, seemingly unaffected by the looks John's parents were giving him. John clears his throat. He wishes he was able to lie to his parents, but he knows he's not. He'd never been able to lie to them. Maybe because Harry was so good at it.

"This is Sherlock," John mumbles, handing out the cups of tea. "My boyfriend," he adds, feeling like a teenager introducing his parents to his first crush. Sherlock smiles at the older pair. John's mother gives Sherlock a somewhat strained smile in return whole his father doesn't remove his gaze from John. John shifts uncomfortably. He knew what was going to happen next, he had seen it several times as he grew up, whenever Harry brought a girl home. Harry and their dad didn't talk or see each other anymore. The arguments between them had marked the beginnings of Harry's drinking problems. John holds his breath.

But his father doesn't start shouting at him as John had expected. Instead he gets up from his chair, the cup of tea standing untouched on the armrest. John watches as his dad walks over to Sherlock. He stands stills for a while before grabbing Sherlock's sheet, shaking him violently. "What have you done to my son?" He shouts his face red. "What have you done to my boy?"

"Dad!"

John leaps forward, grabbing his father by his shirt collar and yanking him back. The older man easily shrugs John off and leaps forward again. This time however Sherlock had the sense to move, dodging the incoming blow. John hurriedly places himself between Sherlock and his father, a determined frown on his face.

"Don't you _dare _touch him one more time."

His father studies him in silent rage for a few seconds before he gets an unmistakable look in his eyes. John had seen in once before when his father had caught Harry snogging the neighbour girl on their doorstep. That was the last time he had spoken to her. With help from their mother Harry had moved out shortly after and their father had focused all of his attention John, not mentioning Harry again. This time it was John's turn. John looks at his mother; she knew it too and gave him a sad smile in response.

"It's time for you to leave."

John states, his gaze returning to his father.

His mother shoots him an apologetic glances as they leave and John nods. When they're gone John apologises to Sherlock again and again even though Sherlock insists John has got nothing to apologise for. "People are simple," Sherlock says and John nods.


End file.
